How Comfortable Should You Get in a Salon?

I'm one of those people who likes to go into a salon to zone out. (Translation: Please, please don't talk to me.) But last night I tried out a new place that turned out to be the exact opposite of zen.

Compared to my ideal nail salon, a pristine utopia of sterilized tools and silence, this was something out of a David Lynch movie. It was laid out like a living room full of mismatched furniture—tables, chandeliers, and massage chairs circa your adolescent wanderings through the local mall's Brookstone. Everyone knew each other's name and was happily (and loudly) chatting the entire time. But apparently I was the only one made uncomfortable by this, because other people were blithely walking around barefoot and snacking on a bowl of bananas that had been laid out for customers.

Perhaps I just don't understand the appeal of a one-handed manicure while you manhandle a tropical fruit with the other, but honestly the whole thing seemed very strange to me. There's relaxing that's done in public—my Spartan salon preferences—and relaxing that should maybe, just maybe, be reserved for your own home. Or maybe I've got it all wrong and should in fact stay home myself if silence is my top priority.